


Breathless

by RadiantBeam



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-13 00:40:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21485491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RadiantBeam/pseuds/RadiantBeam
Summary: “And you wanted to talk about Orzammar,” Leliana gently coaxed, giving Saran’s fingers an encouraging squeeze.“Right. Orzammar.” It was a sigh. “Our visit this time is probably going to be longer, so you should know it’s… different, from the surface.”“I would think so, considering it’s underground.”“Smart ass.”orLeliana and Saran talk about what returning to Orzammar means for their relationship.
Relationships: Female Aeducan/Leliana, Leliana/Female Warden
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	Breathless

**Author's Note:**

> Ages and ages ago I wrote this for an LI one word prompt "breathless" on the Dragon Age OC server, and the fact that I keep going back and rereading it makes me think it's decent enough to post as its own thing.
> 
> Plus hey, this ship needs more love.

Leliana woke to darkness and cold.

The darkness wasn’t a surprise; it was night, after all, and that was to be expected. The _ cold_, on the other hand, was what had actually woken her. Something subtle that settled in her bones, made all the more noticeable by the distinct emptiness at her side despite the late hour, and she gave in to the urge and sighed quietly as she processed what that probably meant. Oh, on some level she knew the cold was logical, she wasn’t _ that _ much of a storyteller, and they were in the heart of the Frostback Mountains. That didn’t explain why it seemed to settle in her so _ deeply _, and that, she could completely admit, was the romantic in her.

Well. Nothing to do about it by staying in her tent. Saran _ clearly _wasn’t going to come to her on her own, and that meant taking matters into her own hands. The redhead paused only long enough to wrap a blanket around herself before ducking out of her tent, blinking a few times as her eyes adjusted. Sten was tending to the fire in the middle of camp, and lifted his eyes from the flames when he heard her. “She is still on the perimeter,” he rumbled. “I told her I was switching off and she only nodded.”

Leliana _ did _resist the urge to sigh, this time. “Thank you, Sten. I appreciate you telling me.”

The giant grunted and returned to tending to the fire. She took the dismissal for what it was, and made her way out to the perimeter of camp. Even in the darkness, Saran was easy to spot; the starlight above gleamed off of her armor and turned her usually golden hair silver, and she was hunched over her axe, carefully examining the blade for any nicks or scratches that might wear it down.

For a moment, the former bard just stopped and gazed at her lover. This was a rare look at her--the dwarf relaxed enough to be at ease, even if her guard wasn’t entirely down--and she enjoyed the sight of it before she finally cleared her throat. Saran’s head snapped up immediately, and she winced. “Ah.”

“Ah, indeed.” Leliana hummed in amusement and folded her legs, sitting down gingerly next to the smaller woman. “I must admit, love, I’m not pleased this is becoming a habit for you.”

Saran sheepishly rubbed the back of her neck, blowing out a breath and laughing quietly as Leliana gently draped the blanket over her. “I was about to follow Sten, I swear.”

“Of course. And any day now I’ll be named the true heir of Ferelden and resolve the civil war.”

“Don’t tease, Alistair might actually believe you and take you up on that.” Saran drew the blanket tighter around her and tucked into the human’s side, and though she tried to suppress it Leliana felt the slight shiver. “By the Paragons, I don’t know how any of you survive this cold.”

“We get used to it,” Leliana murmured, smiling at the way Saran grimaced. “I’m surprised it still bothers you.”

Saran was quiet for a time, seeming to turn that over in her head; the archer held her breath, waiting, and breathed out quietly in time with the Warden’s sigh. “It doesn’t,” she admitted. “Not really. Though I admit, this is really nice.”

“I’m glad. I figured I should return the favor since I’m always falling asleep on you, and you’re _ very _warm.”

“In a few ways now, it seems,” was the slightly husky reply, and Leliana felt warmth pool in her stomach as the dwarf took advantage of them both being on the ground to lean up and press her lips to her cheek. It was chaste, and quick, but it was still… something so effortless, so easy, and sometimes she found she couldn’t quite breathe in the aftermath.

It hadn’t been like this completely, with Marjolaine. It had been _ similar _, she knew that, but this… well. From Saran, it was all incredibly genuine, and it always left Leliana feeling a little breathless.

“You,” she managed, “are trying to be distracting.”

“Is it working?”

Leliana pinched her gently. “It would if you’d just come back to the tent. I’m afraid I’m not _ that _adventurous, especially when it’s cold.”

“I’m pretty sure I could change your mind, but…” Saran laughed as Leliana pinched her again. “Okay, okay! I get it. I’m sorry, I just… got caught up in what I was doing and I can’t…” She ducked her head, focusing on her axe again for a second, before she set it aside. “I’m too nervous to sleep.”

“Is it because of Orzammar?”

It was a logical conclusion. They would soon be upon the open market preceding the gates, and their last visit to the underground city had been… well. There was no way to spin it, even with the prettiest words she knew: it had been a mess, and that had been _ before _they’d gotten to the Diamond Quarter to find the Assembly deadlocked. Saran had been in no state to deal with it, and they had departed shortly after. They returned now on some hope that, with the rest of their allies assembled, the dwarves had managed to resolve their own succession crisis. Only time would tell if they had.

Despite the time that had passed, it was clearly still a fresh memory for the exiled princess; her face twisted and she sighed, rubbing her eyes. “Yeah,” she said softly. “Actually, I--I need to talk to you about something regarding Orzammar, before we get in there. I meant to bring it up sooner, but there’s, uh… there’s no good way of putting this, and I _ really tried _to think of a good way to put it.”

Leliana lifted a brow at that description, and tried to ignore the fact that it suddenly felt like all of the air had rushed out of her lungs at those words. Saran had had many chances to cut the relationship off before this point, she knew that, of course, and she hadn’t rejected her confession. And _ then _ there had been the whole incident with the mad hermit in the forest, but she’d been trying _ really hard _to respect the fact that the dwarf hadn’t seemed ready to talk about that--

“Um, Lel?”

And yet, she still couldn’t quite draw a breath even as she _ knew _ that. It was a painful sort of breathlessness, and despite the part of her that was doing everything in its power to remind her of what she’d just told herself, it was rapidly being drowned out by the hiss that sounded so much of Marjolaine, sinking her claws into her chest, whispering _ of course you knew this would come, what did you expect when you’ve already been used, pretty thing-- _

“Leliana.” Warm hands framed her face, and that made her blink and _ finally _it felt like she managed to suck in a breath, grimacing as it seemed like her lungs burned with the action. Saran had turned them at some point so they were face to face, and the dwarf’s icy blue eyes were intense as they met hers. “Silver, hey. I can’t go where you’re going. Come back.”

She took another breath, and then another, and eventually the burn faded from her lungs; Leliana sighed quietly and pressed her forehead to Saran’s, and she heard the Warden release a shaky sound that made her heart ache. “I’m sorry,” she said, when she could manage to speak again.

Saran shook her head, pressing her lips to her forehead. “No, _ I’m _sorry. I should have thought of a better way to put that, I… I didn’t think of how it would sound.”

That got a laugh out of the redhead. Weaker than she would have liked, but it was still a laugh instead of a sob, and she counted that as a win. “Silver?” she asked, because that seemed like the safest topic at the moment, and the way the blonde flushed all the way back to her ears and down her neck made her smile.

“It’s, uh,” Saran coughed, releasing Leliana’s face; she took her hands now instead, though, so she didn’t complain. “I’ll explain when we’re in Orzammar, it’s tied to one of our old sayings and I can’t really explain it unless you hear other dwarves saying it.”

“And you wanted to talk about Orzammar,” Leliana gently coaxed, giving Saran’s fingers an encouraging squeeze. She appreciated the warrior’s lingering concern for her—loved her for it, really—but now that her mind was clear, she wanted to fully address the topic that was clearly causing the dwarf some concern.

“Right. Orzammar.” It was a sigh, as Saran’s eyes dropped to their joined hands now. “Our visit this time is probably going to be longer, so you should know it’s… different, from the surface.”

“I would think so, considering it’s underground.”

The gentle tease made Saran snort, and she pressed a warm kiss to Leliana’s fingers; the tension that had started to gather in her shoulders eased some, with the gesture. “Smart ass.”

Leliana smiled slightly. “You love me.”

She expected the smaller woman to laugh, or just smile, or otherwise deflect somehow; they still hadn’t talked about her admission to the mad hermit, despite the time that had passed since then. What she didn’t expect was for Saran to glance up at her, studying her face for a moment, before she leaned in and kissed her—slow, sweet, lingering, and Leliana sighed quietly as they parted.

Oh yes, she much preferred being breathless like _ this. _

“I do,” the dwarf murmured, something soft and fragile that made everything in the redhead ache. “I do love you, Leliana, and that’s why this is so… hard, I guess. No one will give Alistair the time of day even as a Warden, so I _ need _to be there even if most of them hate me, and while I’m there we…”

Ah. Leliana suspected she was beginning to understand. She tugged Saran in closer, drawing the blanket around them tighter, and pressed her lips to her hair as her lover released a shuddering sigh.

“There’s an expectation in Orzammar,” she finally whispered, a little hoarse. “Same sex relationships aren’t looked down on, so long as you do your duty and reproduce. But among the noble women, there’s… some belief that at a certain age, you should outgrow being attracted to women. Men can be a little more open about it, but they’re _ allowed _to take lower caste concubines, so that gives them more freedom. Gorim was warrior caste, beneath me, and the way we had to hide it…” She blew out a breath. “Well. I don’t blame him for marrying the first woman on the surface that could openly be with him after that.”

Leliana did—she blamed him more than she would ever admit, but it was an anger born from her love’s pain and the worn, aching tone in her voice as she spoke of the man. So instead she said, quietly, “I assume you didn’t outgrow being attracted to women, either.”

“Adal did.”

Maker, there was a whole world of old hurt in those words. Leliana’s grip on Saran merely tightened in response. She didn’t ask; she didn’t need to know, and the blonde simply nuzzled into her shoulder and seemed to collapse into that acceptance. “So we’ll have to hide our relationship, is what you’re saying.”

“Yes.” It was tired, breathed into her shoulder. “Ancestors know I don’t want to, I_ hate _having to do it, but I’m already on loose sand there and if something happened to you because of that…”

“It would make requesting aid for the Blight difficult, I imagine.”

Saran snorted. “Orzammar wouldn’t have enough people to provide for the Blight in that case.”

The shot of warmth that sent down Leliana’s spine was dangerous, and she knew it; knew it, and quietly enjoyed it anyway. Out loud she said, “Then we’ll hide it. I think we can manage for a little while.”

“I’m sorry.”

“My love.” She gently ran her hands through silvery strands of hair. “Don’t apologize. We all know this Blight is bigger than us, and besides…” She smirked when Saran pulled back enough to peek up at her, “I’m _ very _good at sneaking.”

That got a laugh out of Saran, something bright and startled, and she cupped Leliana’s face in her hands again as she kissed her. The bard’s fingers tangled in her hair and she ran her other hand down the dwarf’s spine, pressing her closer, and for a wonderful moment nothing but the two of them existed.

Saran was breathless now, when they parted; her hair had come loose at some point from her usual ponytail, and Leliana loved the sight of it. “By the Stone, I do love you.”

“Then come back with me and show me.”

And she did.


End file.
